LUV – Remember when we all used to give Christmas cards to each other? Remember what a golden time that was? I do. You’d buy a box with 50 Christmas cards in it, give them to 50 people and receive exactly 50 Christmas cards from those people in return. Would it have been easier to just buy a box of 50 Christmas cards and put them up around your own house, saving everyone the bother of accepting, writing and reciprocating, all just so that you could feel special and wanted for a solitary microsecond? Yes, but that’s probably not the point.
At least there was effort involved. At least it was better than sending all the contacts in your phone an emoji of a tree next to an emoji of a thumbs up. At least it was better than writing ‘Merry Christmas’ on your own Facebook wall and hoping that people will see it. At least it was better than liking someone else’s ‘Merry Christmas’ status update. I miss Christmas cards.
If nothing else, Christmas cards should come back for the sake of the Christmas card illustrators. Those poor bastards only know how to draw penguins and anthropomorphic, unrealistically-round Christmas puddings. That’s all they can draw. Save the Christmas card, readers. Do it for them.
– Stuart Heritage
HAT – Answer me this: what do you do with Christmas cards come the Twelfth Epiphanic Candlemas, or whenever it is Christmas shuts down?
Logically, of course, you trash them. It’s just a bit of card. The environment essentially demands that you stuff them into the green-lidded bin. But, like blithely tossing those charity envelopes you get in the paper, this feels as karmically suicidal as punching a nun.
Someone thought of you – worthless you – before buying a card and writing ‘Merry Christmas’ in it. For you. They licked the toxic gum and sealed the envelope. For you. Then they looked up your address, paid for a stamp and literally left the house to ensure it reached you. FOR. YOU.
Most days people don’t even mumble ‘thanks’ when you hold a door open for them, so a kindness of this magnitude deserves to be cherished like a lottery win.
But, come on… When it’s all over, do you stick them in a drawer along with dozens of yellowing birthday cards, until you have a desk that doesn’t even open anymore? And you have to take an axe to your pine effect Ikea workstation just to obtain your passport? What, now I have to buy an axe? What, now Christmas cards are demanding I expend actual, frenzied physical energy? What, now I have to obliterate furniture and burrow through acres of glittery robins and heartfelt sentiments just because I want to Ryanair it to Riga? WHAT?
– Stuart Waterman